Nomenclature
by L is for Love
Summary: Implied Sasusaku AU Oneshot Fangirls. Coffee. Disaster. Oh My!


The first time _he_ walked through those doors, I knew hewas different. There was something about him that interested me, and no… it wasn't his mid-length hair of ebony, or his equally dark eyes. Nor was it the smooth yet casual way he came over to the counter where I was, to my embarrassment, gawking like a fool. Okay, maybe it was… but still…

Anyways, it was a Saturday afternoon and I had to go to work. I know what you're thinking… That since I'm a college student I should studying for class or training, rather than working… blah blah, yeah I know.

However, with those darn tuition fees being so high, I needed to make money somehow, right? Blame the "prestigious" medical school Tsunade sent me too — Whoops, I'm going off on a tangent, aren't I? So, long story short, I took this job because I was just a bit impecunious. I still am, of course…

To be honest, as _he_ came up to the counter, he seemed about as sociable as a rock.

"Welcome to Konoha's Café and Bakery! What can I get for you today, sir?"

Yup, that's me, folks. The young cashier with the oh-so-ordinary pink hair tied up into a messy bun (I was late to work), sporting the café's maroon visor and apron uniform. (I chose to exclude the bags under my eyes from lack of sleep. Seriously, one can balance so much studying and kunoichi-training.)

_He _looked up at the menu momentarily and said, "Mint Chocolate Iced Cappuccino."

What, no "please?"

Suddenly, a burst of giggles caught my attention. The sound disrupted the quiet atmosphere of the quaint little café. I looked up to find, to my annoyance, a disconcerting group of girls were congregating around the door, obviously admiring the handsome customer. I briefly wondered if _he _was some kind of celebrity.

If he was, I wouldn't have known because amongst my friends, I was certainly the most passé. In school, I was never up-to-date with the latest fads or celebrity gossip. I never really cared for it. For example: "Oh! Look, insert celebrity name lost 50 pounds eating Healthy-O's!" My friends would often shove the magazine in my face, and point it out in complete shock. My general response: "And I care because…?"

Honestly, how in the world does that affect me? "So-and-so lost weight!" Whoop-dee-doo. She ate to lose weight. Talk about a paradox. Give me a pair of running shoes and I can do it, too. Ten bucks says that my name will never be mentioned.

Speaking of weight…

I desperately tried to hide my disgust when I realized the reason why the girls seemed so disconcerting. It was their physiognomy. Many of them, if not all, were terribly gaunt, merely skin and bones. I tried to restrain myself from leaving a delectable pastry (or two) in front of the door. Perhaps that may do them some good — unless, of course, they were on that "Low or No Carbs" diet that I've been hearing so much about.

"Something funny?" he asked, pulling me from my thoughts as I wrote down his order.

I looked up, abashed, and shook my head. "N-No, sir. I was just… thinking…" I smiled sheepishly as I quickly motioned to the hircine-looking girls behind him. "… How those girls are looking at you like a hobo to filet mignon." I said facetiously.

I berated myself at my capricious comment, mentally of course. I didn't want _him_ thinking that I was more of an idiot than I already was… Then again, I can hardly say that the comment was false.

I'm not trying to be so captious, honest. It's just that, when I was a kid, I used to be picked on because I was so "different" by those types of girls. It wasn't because I was quiet and shy, oh dear me, I was far from it. It was mainly because of my very… unique hair color and my oh so large forehead. Can you believe I was made fun of because of that?

So sue me, if I'm being so vitriol. Can you blame me? Although, I'll admit that I'm a bit sorry since I'm sure that the reason some of those girls look so haggard was because of some psychosomatic reason. They probably weren't as recalcitrant as I was, and gave in to the constant jeering of our peers.

Anyways, back to the present…

_He_ briefly turned his head to catch sight of the hideous — err… hmm… Ebullient? Yes, I meant "ebullient" group of girls who were currently squealing over the fact that _he _looked their way. He turned back to face me quickly, his nose scrunched up in something akin to horror.

"…"

I sighed mentally. I had nearly spent five minutes with him, and I already had the feeling that the man was a bit laconic… but then again… The possibility that this man could be, or had been, a pariah, was slowly becoming more believable now that I've realized that he wasn't as exciting as he seemed when he came into the café. I guess looks aren't everything… That or it's possible that…

He could just be disturbed. I knew I would've been if I was in his shoes.

"How much is it?" By the way he said it quickly; I knew that he was a bit rankled. If it was because of me or the girls, I didn't want to know.

After hearing the price, he gently set his money down on the counter. "Keep the change."

I looked down at the ten dollar bill, befuddled. "But sir, this is twenty dollars, the drink costs only four. That means that you'll—"

"I can do the math. Keep it or put it in the cash register." He waved his hand, silently giving me carte blanche to do what I want with the extra sixteen dollars.

"Thanks…"

He nodded his head in acquiescence. Well, he certainly wasn't parsimony with his money… I wasn't sure if he was just being largess — perhaps he knew about my money problem? (Fat chance, girl. Keep dreaming.) — Or if he just got tired of me taking my time. I chose the latter.

Once _he _got his receipt, he walked to an empty table and placed a rectangular black bag on it. I sighed in slight envy as I watched him set a laptop onto the table. I could never afford that since I'm currently in a state of "abject poverty." Note that I was being sarconic.

Besides, I have ten dollars in my pocket now, so I'm not all that poor… If you were wondering what happened to the moiety of the sixteen dollars, I just dropped it in the tip jar. Being selfish can bring bad karma, right?

As the saying goes, "All good things must come to an end." It did… in absolute pandemonium.

I had just finished making the drinks for everyone who had ordered. Humming to the mellifluous beat of the foreign song playing in the café, I walked around the tables, handing out the customers' orders. Everything was going just fine, until I neared _his _table.

I was just about done handing out drinks, and was going to head over to _his _table to give his. The next thing I knew, I was falling. That was when all hell broke loose.

On the tray, I had been carrying two drinks. The iced cappuccino _he _ordered and a cup of coffee. When I fell, I flew forward, knocked into a few chairs, and finally landed roughly on the ground, hitting my head against a leg of a table. Every single thing I crashed into made me see stars.

So much for my "mad" ninja skills.

The tray I had been holding flew out of my hands and landed on a table, knocking over a couple of mugs (which turned out to be empty, I later learned). The iced cappuccino flew to the side and splattered all over a girl. The girl stood up in shock, vociferating a number of colorful words. Finally, to my horror, the cup of coffee — which was still VERY hot — bounced off _his _table, and spilled its contents all over _his _arm and side.

Who knew that caffeine could be so baneful?

I groaned in pain when my head pulsed as a gentle voice spoke to me. The voice was abstruse, and my head hurt too much to open my eyes. I brought a hand to my head, and replied. "Am I dead?"

"I sure hope not, dear. You're one of my favorite employees." I could recognize that low and imperious tone anywhere. I opened my eyes to meet the worried brown orbs of my employer. "Do you think you can stand?"

I shook my head. "I'm not sure, but everything hurts so I don't want to try."

A pair of hands picked me up by the waist, and gently placed me upright on the couch. "Thank you." I said to whoever helped me. I inspected my injuries languidly. Psh… 'Being selfish can bring bad karma,' my foot. I knew I should've put in the extra two dollars in the tip jar.

Parts of my arms were turning various colors of blue, green and purple. There were also small cuts across my left arm, which I assumed must have been caused by the broken glass on the floor. I sighed at my haplessness. Someone "up there" truly didn't like me.

"Anything serious?" my employer asked as she handed me aspirin.

"Other than the bump on my head and my extreme headache, I think I'm going to live." I replied with a pained smile. Sitting up straight, I took a look at the destruction.

Chairs lying on their side, pieces of glass were scattered around the floor, a table was leaning at an odd angle (I assumed that it was that table I collided with), and coffee was splattered all over the place. It was as if somehow a tornado passed through the store, leaving only damage (and chaos soon) in its wake.

"Oh dear…" I glanced up at my employer curiously, and followed her gaze to a girl who was crying hysterically. So that was where all that raucous was coming from…

It took me a few seconds to realize that it was the girl who was hit with _his _iced cappuccino. From where I sat, I could hear her querulous sobs about how her new outfit was sodden. I failed to hear the rest because her voice was obfuscated by the overweening pitch of her wailing.

I continued to look around until my eyes landed upon _him. _ He was sitting alone at a table clutching his wrist. I slowly made my over to him, my headache abated thanks to the aspirin.

His tanned skin was pallid. My eyes traveled to his arm, and my hand flew to cover my mouth in shock. I had almost forgotten that it was he who had been hit with the coffee. His arm was red, and no doubt scalded by the coffee.

He merely stared at me. Any emotion of pain was clandestine. I bowed my head in mea culpa. "I'm so sorry..." I felt horrible. I've been studying all this time to become a doctor. I was supposed to prevent injuries not cause them. "Please, let me heal it, sir—"

"It's Sasuke," he interrupted; obviously irritated at the honorific I have been addressing him as. "And I'm fine. I don't need help from a _girl_." he said churlishly, stressing the word, "girl."

…

flush

What a misogynistic prick!

At that moment, all of the respect I held for him instantly went down the drain.

I leaned forward, a wily smile on my face. By the slight narrow of his eyes, I could tell that he knew that I was up to something. "Are you sure you don't need my help?" I asked manically.

He merely nodded adamantly. I stood straight, and before he could react, grabbed a glass of water from the table and "spilled" its contents over his arm. He instantly uttered a string of profanities through clenched teeth. Since my arm clenched his wrist, he was forced to writhe in place. That sure cooled down his intractable attitude. (My Inner-Me's doing, I swear)

I wasn't being evil, I was simply trying to be judicious and get my point across. If I have to use the cruelest ruse possible, so be it.

"So, will you let me clean that up?" I asked rhapsodically.

After a moment to ponder, he finally acceded. My smile widened at the victory. Quickly, I made my way behind the cash register and lifted the First Aid kit we kept there. Slinging it over my shoulder, I turned to find myself facing the girl who had been crying earlier. Behind her were other girls whom I assumed were her underlings. Her eyes were narrowed in fury, her hands on her hips in a menacing manner.

"YOU!"

I looked to my left.

Nope.

I turned to my right.

No one.

Darn.

"Me?"

She stomped over to me. I gagged at the proximity. I desperately wished my sense of smell was temporarily evanescent. She smelled, quite strongly, of caffeine and some type of overly sweet perfume. They certainly did not mix.

"You see this!" She motioned to her sodden clothes. "Do you know how much money this costs?" she snapped.

I looked down at her. She was a Lilliputian of a girl, perhaps just a bit past five feet. She might have been pretty if she didn't look so bedraggled, with her red eyes, messy hair and swollen cheeks. Hmm… Perhaps that was my fault.

She cleared her throat, waiting impatiently for my response. If she was going to give an attitude, then she should be ready for something mercurial from me.

"A myriad?" I answered.

She raised a delicate eyebrow. "In English, please." she spat in anger.

I smiled down at her in amusement. She certainly was fatuous. "It was."

She groaned in annoyance, pulling her hair in irritation. So, it was true that short people were quick tempered…

"Ugh! Fine! These clothes are worth more than you, you common peasant!"

Peasant? How spoiled was this girl? This must be plutocracy at its zenith. I shook my head in disgust as she crossed her arms. "Point being…?" I asked, motioning for her to go on.

"If you don't want to be sued, I suggest you find some way to pay for the damages done to my clothes! This whole set was $300, and custom-made in Italy!"

My mind blanked at the number. $300 for a pair of jeans and a shirt? What has the world come to?

I looked up when the crowd of girls parted, giggling madly. Stepping through was _him— _Sasuke! He made his way to me slowly.

"Weren't you going to fix my arm?" he questioned with harangue. I flinched at the tone and silently motioned to the girls who were blinking their eyelashes flirtatiously at him. He merely ignored it. "She can't sue you. She was the one who caused it."

My employer was instantly at our side. "How do you know!"

"I saw… besides…" He pointed up, in a lazy gesture that made him erudite in our eyes. To our chagrin, it was…

The security camera.

"Oh…"

With a satisfied smirk, Sasuke shoved his good hand in his pocket and used the other to pull me back to the table he had been sitting on earlier. "Hurry up and get this over with. I have a mission to look over."

There was certainly something different about _him._ Both _he _and I felt a strange attraction towards each other. I desperately hoped that we would meet each other again.

"You know, usually when someone introduces themselves, the other does the same."

I wouldn't say the day we met was serendipitous.

"I'm Sakura."

After all, _he_ came out with a burn, and I came out with cuts and bruises.

**I'm terribly sorry if there are a few words in here that you don't understand. You see, I wrote this for my Lit Class. using the vocabulary we had learned during the course of the semester. ( I changed the words I could find.) When my classes are over, I'll go over and edit this.**

**Well, I hoped you enjoyed it. Oh yes, a review would be nice. : )**


End file.
